“Fine,” I said, then gave him a quick kiss on the lips and hurried away. When I looked back, he was still standing there looking after me, glancing at the book I had swiped for him and then back at me as if he couldn’t believe that what had just happened was real.
That was one of those nights when my father nearly took off my head, but I endured the pain and continued seeing Steve on and off during the next two weeks. As it turned out, he didn’t just have limited romantic experiences. He was a virgin. That ended fast. I was able to spend that night later at his place because one of the girls at my school covered for me in exchange for an iPod I had lifted. She really wasn’t much of a friend, not that any of them were. Mon père was on a short business trip, so I was able to pull it off.
I did begin to really like being with Steve, but I still couldn’t see a long relationship with him. To his credit, he never got too emotional, never said “I love you” or even uttered something like “I really like you, Roxy.” Maybe he realized how little that mattered to me. We just had a thing. In fact, I told him he made love like someone brushing his teeth.
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“You do it like it’s simply something that has to be done. You’re afraid of cavities.”
He thought a moment, missed the point, and shrugged. By now, he had decided not to take anything I did or said seriously, anyway. It was as if he went in and out of a dream when we were together. I really questioned whether he thought about me the day after or pushed me aside for fear he might miss an important point in political science class.
However, the night my father threw me out, I went directly to Steve’s studio apartment. After I had packed, I stopped to look in on Emmie for a long moment. There was a good chance I wouldn’t see her again for some time, maybe ever. I wondered how she would react to that. We weren’t very close. There were just too many years between us, and my father did his best to keep me from doing too much with her without either my mother or him around. I could count on my fingers how many times I had taken her someplace in the city without one of them. I wasn’t to be trusted.
She didn’t stir. She looked like a little doll some other girl had tucked into her bed. I thought her teddy bear was looking at me suspiciously. I touched her hair softly so as not to wake her, whispered good-bye, and then descended the stairs. Mama came to the door of the living room. She looked out at me standing there with my suitcase and shook her head. She seemed unable to speak. It was hard for me, too, but I managed.
“Have a good life,” I told her, and walked out.
It was overcast and dreary, but even if it weren’t, the street never looked as dark or as empty to me, even though there were people walking on both sides and the traffic was heavy. I did feel a little dazed, but I wasn’t hesitant. I walked with determination to the corner and hailed a taxi to take me to Steve’s apartment building. When he opened the door and saw me standing there with a suitcase, he looked about as amazed as anyone possibly could.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m here.”
“With a suitcase? For how long?”
“As long as you’ll let me stay,” I said.
His amazement changed quickly to a look of worry. “Er . . . I could get into trouble if you were here more than a night. You are underage, Roxy. You’re not quite eighteen. You know I know the truth.” He shook his head and put up his hands. “Look, I’m not ready or able to do something like this,” he said. “What did you do, run away from home?”
“Sorta,” I said.
He shook his head. “Go home, Roxy. This is a mistake that you’ll regret.”
“I guess it is,” I said. “Too bad,” I told him, and left him standing there in his open doorway looking quite relieved.
I took the elevator down, walked through the small lobby, and stepped back into the street.
And that’s how it all began.